


Malicious Attraction

by werewindle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Draco Plots, Drunk!Draco, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Humor, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewindle/pseuds/werewindle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds a drunk Draco and gives him a helping hand with a little make-over.  Draco deals with the after effects of his drunken night and conceives of a most <i>cunning plan.</i> Revenge will be sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draco and His Mutinous Hair

Harry Potter held back a laugh as he watched Draco Malfoy swaying and singing off key. The Gryffindor held still, hidden in the shadows so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Oh, the blackmail potential - Prefect Malfoy, drunk in an abandoned classroom singing bawdy songs. Such appalling behavior! The blond suddenly spun moving rapidly across the floor until he miss judged the level of the floor. With a great smack he hit the wall and fell back. Harry really needed to start carrying a camera.

The sight of Malfoy sprawled dazed on the floor was almost too much for Harry. He snickered and tried to muffle it with his hand, but in the quiet of the dusty room even that tiny sound could be heard. Draco tipped his head back looking upside down at Harry who was still snickering in the doorway. 

“Did you see tha’?” Draco asked flopping his hand. “Damned wall. Jumped ri’ at me.” The blond squinted at the now out-right laughing Gryffindor. “Potter!” He hollered. “You- you- Potter!” 

“Mmhmm. And you Malfoy.” Harry said with a smirk. 

Draco growled, “Did you make the wall jump at me? Bastard.” He added almost as an after thought. 

“Oh, yes, Malfoy. I found the secret to controlling the very castle itself and have chosen to use that power knock you on your drunken arse.” Harry rolled his eyes and stepped further into the room. 

“Really?” The blond’s expression was something between awe and anger. 

“No, Malfoy, not really.” 

“Pfft. Meanie, and I thought you were finally being intve- insep- good.” Draco sounded petulant, “G’way.” 

“Nope. This is just too entertaining.” Harry’s smirk widened, he hopped up onto the old teacher’s desk. It was the only piece of furniture in the room except for what looked like the remains of a chair in the far corner. 

“Laughing, funny haired bastard.” Draco cursed him and tried to get up. “Ow.” He sat up and curled over holding the back of his head. 

“You okay down there?” Harry asked mildly concerned, that had been a rather spectacular crash. The Slytherin gave him the two-fingered salute. Well enough, Harry decided. He picked up the bottle off the other end of the desk. “Ice Whiskey?” He’d never heard of that. 

“Taste like peppermint.” Draco told him as he pushed up off the floor. “Gimmie.” He demanded, making his way over to the desk. Harry took a sip, raised an eyebrow at the taste and took a longer swallow. 

“Hey!” Draco grabbed the bottle from the brunet and propped himself up on the desk. 

“So, what are you in here drinking yourself sick for anyway?” Harry asked. He was pretty sure the Slytherin’s tongue was loose enough from the alcohol that he’d actually tell him. It probably wouldn’t be anything dreadfully interesting but Harry was bored and a drunk Draco was entertaining. 

“Why? ‘S not like you care anyway,” mumbled the blond. 

“Sure I do, Draco. I’m a goody-goody Gryffindor, aren’t I?” Harry wheedled, throwing his arm over the other boy‘s shoulders. 

Draco looked at him sideways but nodded in agreement. He swigged from the Ice Whiskey and leaned into Harry a little. “’m having a bad day. It’s my stupid hair. It‘s not long enough to pull back but it gets every where.” Draco turned, face earnest, toward the brunet. “It SNEAKS in my mouth! It’s horrible,” Draco sniffed. Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face. Merlin, mutinous hair. 

“Then, I was doing my potions essay in the common room and there was this little green snappy thing like Pugsy uses just laying on the table. I was so frustrated I clipped back the front part of my hair with it. Then it didn’t get in my eyes anymore.” Draco took another sip and offered the bottle to Harry, who was being really nice. “Slimy Blaise showed up and he started making fun of me!” The drunken boy clutched Harry’s shirt. “But he doesn’t understand!” He practically wailed. 

“Understand what?” The Gryffindor was debating trying to remove Draco’s hands or not. 

“Long hair is a Malfoy family tradition! Patriarchs are supposed to keep their hair below the shoulders. It makes us look dgnified.” Draco confided with a nod for emphasis. “And since Father is in Akabam now I’m ‘Ord Malfoy. So I have to grow my hair.” 

“Malfoy Lords have always had long hair?” Harry asked trying to distract Draco enough to pull his hands off. Unfortunately the drunken boy thought that meant Harry wanted to hold hands. 

“Un-huh,” Draco shook his head. “Just the last...” He paused, lips moving as he counted to himself. “Some.” Draco concluded. 

“Then it’s not an important tradition, besides you’re the head of the family now. You can do what you like, right?” Harry was struck with a very Marauderly urge, almost Slytherin really. The blond nodded, blinking as if the thought hadn‘t ever occurred to him. “Then sod the stupid rule! Cut your hair if you want. I’ll even do it for you; I know a great trimming spell.” 

“Would you?” Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “Why?” 

Harry guessed the Slytherin wasn’t completely smashed if he could still think to ask why. “I’m hurt - can’t I just want to help a schoolmate out.” When Draco didn’t look quite convinced Harry added, “Besides I never got along with your Father and it’d really irk him if you let me cut it for you.” 

“Oh. Well I ‘pose that’s true.” Draco blew a breath upward to get some of the chin lengths strands of hair from his eyes. “Okay then, but not bald. You have to promise. On your gooy-gooy Gryffindor Honor.” 

“I promise I won’t turn you bald, I’ll just cut it nice and short.” Harry put on his most sincere and innocent expression, complete with wide eyes and shy smile. “But I’m going to need my hands to cast the spell.” The brunet lifted their joined hands up and Draco blushed, hurriedly letting go. “Now hold still, this will just take a second.” 

Harry twitched his wand and said the spell. A bright blue light swirled around Malfoy’s head and within seconds the platinum locks were floating to the ground. The same blue light burned them away as they fell so all that was left were little bits of ash by the time they hit the floor. Draco now had just a bare half-centimeter of pale blond hair left. 

He looked like he had fuzz or dandelion fluff coating his head. Harry almost choked on a laugh when he noticed Draco had a large pale red birthmark in a wobbly heart shape right over his left ear. It had been hidden before but was now unmistakable. 

“Well?” Malfoy asked anxiously. 

“You look much better Draco.” Harry reassured him. “It’s really getting late though, I’d better be getting back, and you should too. Oh,” Harry remarked casually. “Do you want me to take the bottle of Ice Whiskey? You’ll be in worse trouble if Snape catches you with it. He’s due to start making his rounds soon.” 

“You’re right. Can’t have that, he might try to confiscate my whole stash!” Draco pushed the bottle into Harry’s hands. “You’re not so bad, Potter - when you’re not being a prat.” 

“And you’re a friendly drunk, Malfoy. Night.” 

“Nigth.” Draco waved as he headed to the staircases. Harry made his way opposite to a disused passage that would take him right to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He said the password and hurried up to the sixth year boy’s dorms. Harry hid the bottle in his trunk and got ready for bed. His night had turned out better then expected. He’d been thoroughly entertained, pulled one over on Malfoy and appropriated most of a bottle of Ice Whiskey - which tasted loads better then the Fire Whiskey he‘d had at the twin’s. 

Harry was looking forward to seeing Malfoy in the morning. He yawned and rolled over. He wondered how long it would take the Slytherin to realize the trimming spell will keep his hair from growing for six weeks.


	2. Draco and His Bad Morning

 

**::Morning in the Dungeons::**

  
Draco groaned, his head reverberating with the sound of Goyle’s bellowing voice. He really should have stopped drinking last night after he finished off that bottle of Fire Whisky. He fumbled around the base of the right bedpost until the hidden compartment snapped open. Draco snagged the little bottle inside, downing the contents in one swallow. 

It tasted beastly but the Hangover Eclipser rid him of his aching head and churning stomach in seconds. Draco rolled onto his back and breathed deeply for a few moments while the potion caused his assorted bruises to tingle as they healed. A wonderful side-effect of Eclipser. 

He must have fallen last night, that was the only explanation for why his back, bum and forehead were tingling. Merlin he hoped no-one had seen him. That would just be disastrous. He knew he got a bit silly when he was drunk so he’d gone... to an abandoned classroom? 

Draco rubbed his eyes and tried to remember what happened after that. More drinking, he was certain, then... dancing, maybe. Something about a wall. 

Memories flooded back to Draco. Hitting the wall. Potter. “Oh, Circe!” Potter had seen him! Draco groaned again and tried to smother himself with a pillow. It was useless, he pulled the pillow away, he just couldn’t kill himself. With his luck he’d end up haunting Hogwarts and that was just too cliched for a Malfoy to contemplate. 

The Slytherin Prefect waited until he heard his dorm mates leave before rolling out of bed and making his way to the showers. He set the water as hot as he could tolerate and spent a good two minutes just standing under the beating spray. Draco washed quickly before tackling his mop of hair. He poured a generous amount of his special shampoo into his palm, rubbed them together to start a lather before passing them through his hair. 

Hands on the back of his head Draco blinked in consternation. Carefully he ran his fingers over his scalp again. Instead of the tangled mass he was expecting he found only rough stubble. “Bloody hell!” Draco cursed. Then he remembered the too innocent face of Potter offering to cut his hair as a favor. 

Draco quickly rinsed the shampoo off and hurried out of the shower to the sinks. He almost screamed at the sight of himself. You could see his birthmark! He snatched his wand and cast a lengthening charm. Nothing happened. Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten in Latin. He cast the charm once more, still nothing. 

This time Draco did scream. 

The sound echoed up the air vents, scaring more then one first year. Potter, who was on his way to breakfast stopped and listened, a smirk on his lips, before jogging to the great hall whistling as he went. 

In the dungeons Draco was throwing items out of his trunk as he searched furiously for the hair growth potion he’d been saving for a prank. Finally he found the vial and downed the contents. He pulled open his armoire door, watching in the mirror for his hair to grow. It stubbornly refused to lengthen. Giving a great sigh of despair Draco flopped back onto his bed. He couldn’t go to class like this. He wouldn’t. Not even Snape himself could convince him otherwise. 

  


* * *

  


Draco cast a triple strength privacy spell around the bed-curtains all the while cursing Snape’s heartlessness. His own head of house sending him to class to be ridiculed! This was all Potter’s fault. Draco flicked his wand blasting the pillow at the foot of his bed apart. Feeling a calmer after the minor bit of destruction Draco closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.

Screw his homework, he decided, chocolate and revenge were what he needed tonight. Hanging over the side of his bed Draco pulled out the small chest from underneath. He fluffed his pillows and swished his wand at the enchanted globe over his bed. It was a light therapy ball and would slowly change colors to sooth him. It could also play music but Draco hadn’t figured out how to change it from the dreadfully boring meditation chanting. 

Draco placed his hand on the carved box lid and waited for the enchantment to recognize him. He heard the tumblers snick into place and spoke the disarming password, “Mars Rising.” Only after the slight red glow had faded did Draco remove his hand and flip open the box. Inside were his treasures, most of them were pretty ordinary things he didn’t want to share. The swirled Belgium chocolates, his favorite liquors, a bottle of rare Mandrinette Hibiscus bath oil... Then there were the things he didn’t want his classmates to find: blackmail packets, his jewelry, his specially made cosmetics, Rupert - his topsy-turvy dragon-phoenix... 

But his most prized possessions were the most secret, ones his father would have been apoplectic over. His journal, of course. Draco set that aside next to the box of chocolates. A couple of muggle books, a House of Black Heir’s ring - not THE BLACK ring. That was undoubtedly in the bastard Potter‘s possession, everyone knew he was Cousin Sirius’ heir. Grandfather Titus’ Hephaestus blessed dagger and vambraces; Father would have sacrificed a hundred bulls to get his hands on them. Draco might have thought his Father ruled the world when he was younger but Draco wasn’t _stupid._

He was shifting things aside to get the spell book at the bottom when uncovered his rather worn copy of SkyClad - Seekers in Henna. Draco tapped a fingertip against the cover thoughtfully. He could, of course, ruin Potter’s day-his week with a well timed hex. But Draco was going to suffer for several weeks and Potter should as well. 

And, as the Gryffindor had pointed out, he was The Malfoy now. He could do as he wished and if people didn’t like it they could just take a long walk off a short pier. 

Draco closed his lockbox and put it back under the bed. He snagged one of the chocolates before flipping to a blank page in his journal. He hummed as the treat melted on his tongue and set about making notes. His plan would need to be perfect if he wanted to over come not only Potter’s shining bloody luck but his freakishly observant watch dog, Granger. Everything had to plausible, more than that it had to be utterly _probable._

It would be his most cunning plan yet!


End file.
